That Slowly Sinking Ship
by arbitraryink
Summary: No matter what he tells himself, Hatter can't just watch her leave. One-  maybe two-  shot.


Disclaimer: All characters and concepts belonging to this Alice universe are the sole property of SyFy. No copyright infringement is intended, nor will this project be used for profit of any kind.

(this may end up being a two-parter. only time will tell!)

"Shut it down, sire!"

There is a crash, a bright flash of light, and then the mirror goes suddenly still. There is no vibrating hum from the glass. For a second, Jack is afraid that it is too late, afraid that the looking glass would split the man in two before he could make it out of Wonderland, but when the mirror grows dark it is just the tails on his jacket that fall to the ground, neatly severed where the mirror cut them off. The room is hushed; the oysters are gone, having returned through the looking glass to the very points from which they were taken, and Jack with a shaking hand removes the stone from the machine. There are suits behind him, mostly spades with a couple of clubs, and he gestures to them. One rushes up with the ring's box, Six gathers up the fallen tails, and Five opens the door for the group to leave the room. In the hall there stands a knight. Though he has one hand clutching the hilt of his sword and the other holding his steel helmet, the trembling of his white beard belies his fear.

"Is he alive?" asks Charlie.

Jack awards himself a moment to pause and collect himself. "Yes," he says at last, and when he walks away, he thinks he sees the older man sag just a little in sheer relief.

Hatter spends his fall in deep thought. In his head he pictures the remains of his tea room – the smoke, pillared against the darkening sky, rising high above the skyline that he once called home. They'd ransacked the place, he remembered, on the very day he'd met Alice – but he stops that train of thought before it goes any further. He is determined not to think of her, not now and not any time soon. It's a dangerous road for his thoughts to go down. His tea room, ransacked and lit ablaze, each of his worldly possessions shrivelling up into charred pieces of coal and ash.

For better or for worse, Hatter is alone in the world now. He wasn't lying when he told her that he wished he could come away with her. But this time, there is no resistance that needs his fighting words. There is no tea room needing him to take care of its business. There is no home for him to return to. For the first time in his life, Hatter feels utterly out of place. He feels lonely. It is a feeling he instantly hates.

It's impossible not to think of her. Alice consumes Hatter's every thought, her face etched into his memory like a carving into a tree. Like a carving, she's struck deep, and though nature will weather the scars, they will never fully fade. He's heading into her world now, but this time Alice isn't with him. He's doing it by himself – possibly the largest act of bravery he's ever undergone – but from the second he lets her into his mind, Hatter is consumed by the desire to find her, touch her, tell her the words of his heart and pray she doesn't mock him for it.

He prepares himself for every possible result. If she screams at him, if she throws herself at him, if she hits him, if she swoons into his arms – he is ready for happiness, and for sorrow. But he never expects to have trouble finding her.

When Hatter reaches the mouth of the alley, he's already been searching for over an hour. "Have you seen a girl?" he asks every person on every corner he passes. "She has dark hair and is in a blue dress." The only answers he receives are quick shakes of the head – Wonderland has never been a particularly cozy home, but at least where he's from the people on the street will acknowledge a person with words – and dejection starts to set in. Hatter is hungry and cold, and the cuts and bruises on his head are aching, shooting poisons through his blood and into his brain. His mouth his dry and his throat is hoarse from his constant calling. When he finally steps into that alley, he isn't expecting to see anything but damp, broken down cardboard, and trash cans. He certainly doesn't expect to see Alice sprawled face-first on the ground before a large mirror. Her shoulders are moving gently up and down so he knows she's breathing, but he can barely fight the compulsion to turn around and run, run through the looking glass, run home.

Just to be safe, he walks toward the mirror, giving Alice's body a wide berth. He gently rests his fingertips, and then his palm, firmly against the mirror, and when it doesn't give way, Hatter feels a peculiar mix of joy and desolation. His link to his home, to Wonderland, is destroyed, but on the other hand – Hatter turns to stare at Alice's prone form, half longing – his real home will forever be wherever this woman is.

Picking her up is like picking up a ragdoll. She is light – too light, Hatter thinks – and her arms are loose, sagging against her body as he cradles her against his chest. Suddenly Hatter is tired, so tired, but he forces himself to take one step at a time, step after step, minute after minute. It seems like an eternity – like the walk is even longer than his fall was through the looking glass – but soon enough Hatter hears the panicking voice of a woman who has lost something dear to her.

"Alice!" cries the person who must so obviously be her mother. "Alice, oh God, sir, is she all right?" Hatter doesn't know how to respond to this woman's certain abject terror, and so he simply shakes his head once. "No?" repeats Carol Hamilton, her voice rising to a shrill tone near the end of her words. "No, she's not all right? We need to get her to a hospital. Quick, we can take my car – "

Hatter doesn't want to put Alice down, just in case he loses her like he's done so many times in the past several days. Still holding her tightly in his arms, Hatter slides into the back of the Suburban and nestles her close. Alice's breaths are coming in short, shallow gasps. Her face is ghostly pale. Alice's mother is chattering just to distract herself from her worry.

"It was so kind of you to come here with me, I simply don't know what I would have done if I had to get her into the hospital by myself. I can't bear to think what might have happened had I not been able to find her. Oh! Your face. Are you hurt? Where you in the building, too, when it went down? And, Lord, I can't believe I forgot my manners so badly – what's your name? What can I call you?"

He's trying to think of a clever story and so he's staring out the window as they whip down the freeway, and almost misses the question. "My name," he replies, startled, and his eyes catch the name on a street pole they pass on his side of the car. "David. They call me David. Ah, my building – the collapse is what caught my face like this. There's no need to worry about me, m'um. I'll be fine in a couple of days or so. By next week, even the bruises will be gone." It isn't until then that attH Hatter realises just how filthy he is, how his trousers are torn at the knees and on the thigh, the mud that stains his entire shirt. Even his hat is an abomination to him. For a brief second, he's embarrassed, but then Hatter remembers that he knows no one. He is alone out here.

He waits at the hospital until Carol lets herself out of Alice's room and closes the latch on the door gently to keep her from waking up. Hatter is nodding off in his chair – it has been just as trying a day for him as it was for Alice – and Carol looks startled to see him there. "Oh, I'm so sorry, David," she apologises, "I had no idea you were still waiting."

Hatter pulls himself back to reality with a sharp, internal snap. "Yes, m'um. How is she? Is she well?"

Carol smiles at Hatter, and he only realises that it's the same smile Alice has when he's struggling to look away. "She will be fine, the nurses tell me," Carol says, and there is tangible relief oozing out of every pore in her body. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for us, David. I couldnt've have done this without you. Please, I want to thank you."

She fishes into her pocket and withdraws a small stack of that paper, the same paper that Alice gave to Ratty so many nights ago. "I certainly hope this will be enough," she says, pressing a bundle into Hatter's hand. "I wish I had a better way to thank you."

From what he understands of oyster money which, Hatter grants, is slim to none, these coloured sheets of paper could buy him at least a night in an inn somewhere, and maybe a hot bath. There's a place near to Alice's house that a friendly hospital patron points out, and that's precisely where Hatter heads. For the day, he enjoys the relaxation. He pays for his room upfront, and keeps tips for services rendered deep in his pocket. The money Alice's mother gave him won't stretch forever, but for a change Hatter is going to live in a small level of comfort. He gives one bill to the front desk attendant, who sends out an order for clean clothes, and they've arrived once Hatter has finished soaking in the hot bath he pulled for himself. This stay is a luxury he could never afford on his own, and Hatter knows that very well.

He is nearly mindless with exhaustion when, at last, he lays down between two soft, cool sheets, and rests his head on his pillow. His last thought is that he needs to get his hands on a razor, because when Alice wakes up, he is going to make her look at him. And for once, he doesn't feel afraid. He feels certain that he can make her see.


End file.
